The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

17. Ceremonies and Offerings

Chapter seventeen

Ceremonies and Offerings

A weak yellow dawn broke across the snow-capped peaks to the back of High Tower Castle as the princess’s carriage wended its way down to the higher city. Solveig caressed the jewelled cuffs at her wrists as she watched the common folk through the sheer drapes covering the windows. As a child, they’d been cumbersome to the point of pain. Yet with every pair she’d grown out of, she had also grown older, stronger; they became easier to bear. She almost forgot they were there. Until she witnessed citizens, like the stall owners setting up at the market and the bakers pulling fresh loaves from the ovens, walking through life without them. Content in their simple, powerless lives. Joined in their obscurity by the countless others who failed to manifest with every passing year.

They passed The Wall where a few citizens lingered, freshly picked flowers held in tight grips as tears tracked down their cheeks. Some placed a hand upon it, caressing the name etched beneath their palm, remembering their dead in the only way they could afford. As the years had passed, many had fallen to the strange sickness that was taking hold within Osvolta. From the snow-capped peaks of Torrelin to the salt kissed shore of Farrenhold, hundreds of elementals had succumbed to gruesome deaths. Fine one day and drowning in their own blood the next. The lords and ladies of her father’s court who had suffered losses were remembered in The Hallows, a burial site beyond the eastern gates of Marrelin City. The common folk had The Wall and their families’ names etched within. Solveig had to force her gaze away, as she fought to swallow the emotion clogging her throat. She had lost someone as they had. Held him as he choked. Sobbed as his body went cold in her arms, but she would never be one of them. Would never share in their pain whilst she caused them more, cursing them to a life of unending grief.

Finally, the carriage pulled up alongside the Temple of The Oracle. The golden dome atop the stark, white walled fa?ade was a beacon glowing in the early morning sun. Solveig repositioned her hood, bowing her head to wait for the carriage door to open as protocol dictated. Once it did, she took the gloved hand that reached within and stepped out into the chill air. Temple acolytes lined the pathway on either side, silent in their pale blue and white garb. Solveig climbed the polished steps, coming to a stop in front of two men.

“Praise be The Oracle, and the balance hard fought. May we always be worthy of their court.” She bowed low as she spoke.

“Rise, dear child,” came a kind voice. Solveig raised her head and met dark eyes set in an unearthly pale face, crowned by long white hair. The voice of The Oracle in Torrelin, their prophet. Chosen from a sea of acolytes following his predecessor’s death ten years prior.

“Leader Ezekiel,” she murmured.

“Blessed child of Oracle protected Osvolta. Welcome home.” He drifted the back of one icy hand down her cheek. Shivers ran over her body from his touch. “To what do we owe this auspicious visit?”

“I come to pay my delayed respects to our benevolent protector, so their light may continue to shine upon me.”

“You are most welcome, dear child. Please follow me this way.” Leader Ezekiel’s white robes kissed the floor as he spun.

Solveig made to follow when the other man stepped in her path. Her eyes shot up to meet the familiar blue belonging to Gabriel, Leader Ezekiel’s son, and her betrothed. He said nothing as he offered her his hand to lead her inside, where an acolyte waited before a basin of Caldera Lake water. Gabriel helped her shed her cloak, revealing a dark blue dress as he handed it off to the acolyte before taking her place.

“Bless those who come to this temple to make their annual offerings.” Gabriel dipped two fingers into the sacred waters and drew two overlapping circles at the centre of her forehead over the golden circlet she wore. Binding her to her family and The Oracle.

“This way Princess Solveig, your ceremony shall begin momentarily.” Gabriel offered his hand to her once more, this time realising that she had not worn the gloves as Killian recommended. Her gaze flicked up to Gabriel’s, where she almost missed the sharp glint in his eyes and the tightness in his jaw before he wrenched back his control.

Their footsteps echoed along the polished white stone floor. Ordinarily, when a member of the royal house came to pay their dues at the temple, they lay a turquoise blue carpet edged in gold out for them. Not for Solveig. She was more reaper than princess these days.

Sweet smelling smoke wafted out from the private worship rooms. Choral singing drifted from the main hall that Gabriel led her toward and then passed. Solveig twisted in his grip, staring at the doors to the hall as they went. “Where are we going?” she asked as Gabriel marched her further down a long, dark hallway. He remained quiet until a locked door blocked their way.

“We have a few questions for you before the ceremony.” Gabriel said at last, squeezing her hand tightly as though in support, but it only sent shivers down her spine.

“We who?” she countered, jaw set, and eyes narrowed.

“They shall reveal all once you enter.”

“You won’t be joining me?”

“I wish I could, dearest Solveig. It has been too long since I last gazed upon you. Alas, I am needed in the main worship hall whilst we finish setting up for the ceremony.” He patted the top of her hand warmly, but a stark coldness lurked beneath his eyes. With a wave of his hand, the white gems on his own cuffs glowed as the door clicked unlocked, swinging open slightly.

“Please, let us not delay any further.”

Solveig entered the room alone, its dark walls were cast in an eerie blue and green glow. The blue Solveig quickly realised came from elemental flame. The green, however, came from some other monster. A copper cube sat atop a pedestal, framed in blue light from the smouldering wood lying on a tray behind it. Thin copper wires, similar to those used for chain mail, extended from it. At the end of each wire were circular disks edged with sharp teeth. A green substance lay in the centre, travelling up the underside of the wire to the cube.

“Ready to reveal all your secrets, little lamb?” Solveig’s eyes shot to where Killian stood behind an empty chair.

“I’d rather give you a matching scar for the other side of your face,” she muttered, taking a step backward.

“Good luck doing that without your daggers,” he retorted. “You want them back? All you must do is take a seat right here. I’ll connect these wires to a few areas around your scalp. Nothing to worry about.”

His smile was too sweet, words dripping with false comfort. There was a trap here, but she knew she had no choice but to go through with it. She’d made that decision the moment she boarded Adira’s ship.

Reluctantly, Solveig sat in the chair next to the pedestal as Killian placed two of the wires beneath the hair at her temples. Two more at the crown of her head and the last two behind her ears. He took a step back, checked the positioning, smiling as he spoke.

“Shall we?”

Solveig nodded as best she could. Her movements restricted as Killian snapped his fingers and the smouldering logs became an inferno as he slid the tray into the cube. The green substance along the wires glowed like the gems of their cuffs when their magic ran through them.

“Now then, Solveig, why did you free Malik Etana?”

Images flew through Solveig’s mind, completely out of her control. Her eyes watered as she tried to fight it, but as she fought, pain lanced through her head between the points of contact where the disks met her skin. When another presence took up residence in her mind, ripping apart her consciousness piece by piece.

“Hello, Princess,” a ghostly voice spoke in her head, as it wrenched control of her memories away.

And Solveig screamed.